K is for Kiss
by Dush-kins
Summary: "'And I'm guessing, since you didn't know how to handle things today, I'm going to have to show you firsthand,' Iraq smiled deviously, and Kurdistan became nervous all over again." A fic on Kurdistan's first kiss. REQUEST.


**A/N:** Second finished in this kinda… semi-serious project of mine. This one was requested to me over DA. In fact, I'm still taking requests for this… go to my DA journal (linked in my profile) for more info on that ^^.

This one isn't so much historical based, but character based. Contains the pairings Kashmir/Kurdistan and some _light_ Iraq/Kurdistan. Reasons for the latter only being light are just due to my inability to write shotacon :P But I did my best to stay true to the request :D

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Himaruya :|

**K is for Kiss**

In 2007, Iraq watched the two of them from afar, his arms crossed and an amused smile playing at his lips.

Out of everyone, Kurdistan was the _last_ person he expected to partake in something like this—in fact, the possibility had never crossed Iraq's mind once. When it came to their kind, no matter the chronological age, they tended to act as old as they physically appeared to be (which was just fine, in Iraq's book; a world full of wise old sage's would be no fun, after all). With that said, Kurdistan, never having been an independent state at all, never got the chance to grow up as he should have. He was still small and boyish-looking, perpetually stuck at the dawn of puberty. A pre-teen, at best. And as a boy so young, wasn't he still supposed to find the opposite sex… repulsive?

But alas, here it was. Iraq watched them from a distance, Kurdistan and his company. The girl he was talking and laughing with, the one he was sitting just a bit too close to. She appeared to be one of their kind. Iraq recognized the girl, could have sworn that he'd seen her before. He could remember her eagerly trying to get Pakistan's attention, being dragged around by India. The one who put the irreparable gap between them.

Her name came to him subtly, like a whisper, his memory casually reminding him. Oh, right— her name was Kashmir. The squirmy-looking region who sported heterochromatic eyes—the right one brown, the left green, respectively enough like India and Pakistan. Somehow, she gave off the impression that if one were to touch her, her skin would feel gummy and clammy and even sticky. Her face wasn't clean and when she smiled, Iraq could see that her two front teeth were missing. She was obviously too old to still have her milk teeth, which meant that she must have lost her permanents. Iraq's entertained smirk transformed into a disappointed grimace. Even he would admit, Kurdistan could be better.

But even so, there was still a rough charm to her, a rugged beauty that managed to peek its way through the patches of dirt on her face. The beautiful innocence of her youth seemed to allude her; almost there, but not quite. Her mannerisms made her seem paranoid, nervous, perpetually frightened. She'd seen a lot in her recent life, Iraq could tell.

He wanted to say that Kurdistan didn't belong with a girl like that, but could he really? What made them so different? The fact that Kurdistan could hide the effects of his history better than she could?

However, despite all of that, Kurdistan still genuinely seemed to like Kashmir; there was something between them, a chemistry, a bond that was stronger than friendship. But as the hours wore on… nothing happened. His northern region wasn't making things interesting _at all. _Kurdistan didn't try to do any of the typical teenage things, like hold her hand or whisper in her ear or kiss her. All the things Iraq could have teased him for later, simply not happening. What was wrong with the boy? Was he girl-shy?

Iraq turned away from them, heading back to the house. He could fix girl-shyness.

* * *

><p>When Kurdistan returned home later that night, not quite the morning hours yet but still considerably late, Iraq called him into his room. He tried to keep his voice as calm as it could be, but even so, Kurdistan still entered the room with a slight nervousness written all over his face. Iraq had tried to convince him, time and time again to no avail, that he wasn't out to get him anymore ("Saddam is gone, and why hurt you when I'm too busy beating myself up?" he once joked, half-heartedly). But, he supposed that only time would be able to prove that in its entirety. Iraq waved the boy over to where he was sitting on the floor, and once he was close enough, he reached up and took his region by the wrists, pulling him down so that he was sitting in front of him.<p>

"Well, uh, why did you call me in here?" Kurdistan began awkwardly, looking down at his fingers, long and slim, his nails clean and trimmed. Why he would ever go for such a (physically) dirty girl was beyond Iraq's understanding. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong. Very wrong."

Kurdistan sighed, visibly becoming more nervous, wringing his hands together—and Iraq wondered, had he done that to him? "What is it?"

Iraq sighed and shook his head in mock-disappointment. "Really, I expected better conduct, coming from you."

The boy looked up at him, his expression blank and almost emotionless, until it dawned on him, what Iraq was probably referring to. "Do you mean… um, did you see me and—"

"Kashmir? Why yes I did. And I have to say, I am _really _disappointed in you."

Kurdistan then, of all things, rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd be. You know, just because you're all conservative and old-fashioned doesn't mean I have to be like that, too."

"Oh, well look at you!" Iraq clapped his hands sarcastically. "You'd have an argument there if you actually, I don't know, made a move on the girl!"

Kurdistan blushed brightly, his light-caramel skin glowing pink. "So you were spying on me?"

"Yeah, for a little while," Iraq admitted shamelessly, as though he sincerely believed that spying wasn't a bad thing. "But I have to say, after a while I just up and left, it was just so boring watching the two of you!"

"That's good, you shouldn't be spying on me to begin with," Kurdistan mumbled.

"Well, you can't blame me, man! I've never seen you talk to a girl before! I was beginning to wonder if you even liked them! Though even if you didn't, I mean… it's not like it's… uncommon with our kind or anything…" Iraq trailed off awkwardly, before shaking his head, bringing himself back. "Anyway, I guess I can understand. It is your first experience with a girl, after all. You were nervous, right?"

Kurdistan rested his head in his hands, sighing heavily. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"Yeah, but we're gonna. Don't worry, I'm going to help you."

"Well, no offence, but… you aren't exactly an expert on relationships."

Iraq scoffed. "And how would you know?"

"I can count all the people that you've been with on one hand," the boy deadpanned.

Iraq remained quiet at that, the few moments of his silence stretching out into what felt like an eternity for Kurdistan. His mood had shifted from playful to serious and reserved so quickly that it was almost scary. The boy had been a second away from apologizing, before Iraq stepped in, finding his voice again. "You're right. I suppose, when it comes to _actual_ relationships, you can count those people on one hand," Iraq told him with a weary smile that held little happiness in it. "But sometimes selfish people just like to take advantage, have one thing without the other. To drink the milk and then not buy the cow, something like that. But… fuck, what am I saying?" Iraq interrupted himself, holding his head in his hands, laughing. "I'm not teaching you any of that, the fuck did I just bring that up for…?" he mumbled, almost to himself.

The boy frowned. "What are you talking about?" he asked innocently, wondering why Iraq was suddenly being so cryptic.

Was Kurdistan playing dumb? Or did he truly not know? "Nothing, nothing. Point is, I have enough experience, okay? More than you do, at least. Don't question my credentials!"

Kurdistan stood staring at him for a few long moments, unaware (or uncaring) of how uncomfortable he was making Iraq. His region stared as though he were some specimen under a microscope, being studied. And he'd been close to snapping before Kurdistan simply asked, "Why."

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to help me."

"Because! Because…" Iraq honestly couldn't think of a reason. (Either that or he knew the reason and refused to acknowledge it.) "Because I'm trying to save face! Everything you do reflects back onto me, and your poor performance today was just embarrassing!"

Kurdistan crossed his arms, flustered, his blush glowing even brighter. "I wasn't _that_ bad. I mean, it's not like I tried something with her and was completely shut down…"

"That's right, because you didn't try at all. You can't expect for her to just make the first move, that's not how it works. Just let me help you this once."

The boy shook his head, his gaze drifting off to the side. "You shouldn't waste your time. I don't even know if she likes me that way."

"Please. She's definitely into you, just from the way she was looking at you, I could tell. With girls, it's always easy to tell if they're into you, especially at your age. They bat their eyelashes, giggle a lot, talk too much, and they won't look you in the eyes, almost like they're afraid that if they do, you'll somehow discover how they feel. The signs were all there, so don't question yourself. If anything, she probably left you today feeling like she did something wrong, like it was her fault you did next to nothing. And, hey, you don't want Kashmir to feel guilty like that, right?"

Kurdistan frowned. "So what… do you suggest I do?" he mumbled, reluctantly, as though afraid that Iraq might give him faulty advice, trying to sabotage him. Considering their history, it was a legitimate concern.

"There are only two things you need to know, really. And I'm guessing, because you didn't know how to handle things today, I'm going to have to show you firsthand." Iraq smiled deviously, and Kurdistan became nervous all over again. "Okay, so, the next time you see her, just cut to the chase. No small talk, no games, just be mature about it and get to the point. She's pretty much the first girl you've ever liked, right?"

"I guess so."

"So then you tell her that. Literally sit her down and tell her that you like her, and tell her that she's the first girl you've ever had those types of feelings for. It'll make her feel special and shit." Kurdistan opened his mouth to protest, but Iraq beat him to it. "I know, I know, easier said than done. But if you ever want this to go anywhere, she needs to hear this from you. And after that, you gotta ask her if she feels the same."

"But what if she doesn't?"

"No. Trust me, she does. She wouldn't have been acting the way she was today if she didn't feel anything for you. I swear, you need to stop being so damn insecure."

"I'm not insecure. It's just… all of this, it's all so awkward."

"It's the price you must pay if you don't want to be single for the rest of your pre-pubescent life. So," Iraq shifted so that he was closer to Kurdistan, their knees touching, "after you've gotten all that junk out of the way, you gotta kiss her."

Kurdistan paled. _"Kiss_ her?" he asked incurdiously, more nervous than ever.

"Yes. I mean, it's not mandatory, but… well, actually, it is kind of mandatory, just to avoid her later questioning what you just told her. I mean, you know, it's best to get it out of the way, yes?"

"I suppose so, but… I mean…" Kurdistan looked away shyly, "how would I go about doing something like that?"

"Well," Iraq started, already in denial about what he was about to do, "I'm glad you asked. Pay attention to what I'm about to do, and please," he took Kurdistan's hands into his own, "for the love of Allah, _don't freak out._" Iraq brought up his hand and placed it on the back of Kurdistan's head, lightly grabbing some of his hair. He drew the boy in close, came down, and made it so that their lips collided.

Kurdistan began to struggle almost immediately, trying to pull away; he brought his hands up to Iraq's chest and attempted to push him off. Iraq interrupted the kiss. Their faces just an inch apart, he repeated in his breathy voice, "I told you not to freak out. Relax." And he kissed Kurdistan again, massaging his lips over that of his region, kissing him with a strange kind of gentleness that the boy had never seen before. It was almost as though Iraq was trying to tell him something with this, but he couldn't think of what it could be. Kurdistan always did have the tendency to miss those big things, like when to avoid someone, when to make his move. How certain people really felt about him. Kashmir or Iraq, he always missed the obvious.

Iraq pulled away again, and whispered, "Open your mouth. Open it." And Kurdistan obeyed, parting his lips slightly, not knowing what to make of any of this anymore. Iraq came down on him again, slithering his tongue into the boy's mouth, slowly and almost hesitant, as though cautious of scaring him off. He smiled into the kiss as he felt the boy trying to mimic his movements, moving his tongue around shyly, trying out a new territory that was absolutely foreign to him. It made him both happy and sad to know that he was doing this; happy for obvious reasons that he refused to acknowledge, but still saddened over how he'd taken yet another aspect of his innocence away. Perhaps the last one remaining.

He heard Kurdistan moan into the kiss, very slight and soft but still there. It shot something electric up Iraq's spine, something powerful, and he knew that if he didn't stop now—

Iraq pulled away so suddenly that it left Kurdistan startled, his eyes shooting open, wide and confused. Iraq narrowed his eyes, contemplative and not glaring. He removed his hand from the back of Kurdistan's head before cupping the boy's face with both hands. He ran his fingers gently over Kurdistan's jawline, still curved in his youth, the same jaw Iraq had once broken before in a fit of rage. "Now that," he whispered, smirking, "is how you steal someone's first kiss."

* * *

><p>The next day, Iraq sat at the same spot he had been the day before, watching Kurdistan from afar. He was with Kashmir again, and appeared to be telling her everything. And judging from the squirmy little girl's reaction—indeed, she wasn't hiding her excitement at all—she hadn't told him <em>no.<em> Iraq wasn't surprised by that. What did surprise him, however, was the way Kashmir practically tackled Kurdistan into a rib-breaking hug, before kissing him herself.

Iraq almost laughed. Had all that drama last night been for nothing? He thought it over, and decided, no, it wasn't.

"Ugh, gross!" Iraq jumped up a bit, startled by the voice behind him. He turned to see that it was Iran, his arms crossed, his eyes wide and his overall expression a mixture of amused and disgusted. Almost like a morbid kind of fascination. "Now _that _is one odd couple. Though, I will admit, Kashmir could do better."

"Shut up. Let them be."

The Persian rolled his eyes. "Oh, look at you, Mr. Noble!" Iran looked back down on the two lovebirds, and shook his head in mock-upset. "Well, Iraq, looks like our little region is growing up. I might be upset right now, if I actually gave a damn."

"Oh, I see how it is. You're actually okay with Kurdistan becoming an adult?"

"Pffft, fuck that. Remember the Republic of Mahabad?" Iran smirked, as if proud of the brutality that he was capable of. "I'm just saying, that awkward little fucker finally found himself a girl. I'm actually happy! Shocked, but still pretty okay with this. Maybe now he'll get so distracted that he'll let go of all his freedom-fighting bullshit and finally accept his life for what it is." He nudged Iraq lightly in the side with his boot. "Don't you agree?"

"I suppose so."

"What's with that voice?" Iran came around, in front of Iraq, blocking his view. "What the fuck? You actually look pretty bummed!"

"I'm fine, it's just… you're right. Kurdistan just grew up a little bit, right in front of us. It is kind of sad, in a way."

"Eh, I guess. But don't be too sad. Kashmir'll take care of him good, she's just that type of girl. And she's aggressive in all the ways that he isn't, I mean, did you see how she just planted one on the poor kid? His first kiss, fast and brutal, of all things! You think his first fuck will be the same way?"

Iraq looked up at Iran, smirking himself. "No, get your facts straight. I was his first."

But because Iraq hadn't been clear on which 'first' he was referring to, he didn't quite get why Iran was looking at him the way he was: arms crossed, his face serious and shocked and disgusted and comical all at once. And Iraq might have laughed, if Iran hadn't proceeded to knee him in the face, causing him to fall over into the sand. "You nasty-ass pervert!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ** Again, not too mugh history… but for those of you who aren't familiar: Kashmir is a disputed region that sits between India and Pakistan that has caused not one, but _two_ wards between them. The issue arouse upon the partitioning of India; Kashmir, then a Princely state, had the choice of either joining with India or the newly-formed Pakistan. The prince of Kashmir, who was Hindu, eventually decided that Kashmir would join India; however, Kashmir is a Muslim majority area. And it was no secret that most Kashmiri's wanted to merge with Pakistan. And so, with both India and Pakistan believing that their territory was at risk, went to war, once in 1947 and again in 1965 (they fought again in 1971, but that was over the fate of present-day Bangladesh).

I designed Kashmir the way I did not because I wanted her to come off as nasty or unhygienic (she's actually very hygienic), but because I wanted her to kind of be a reflection of the land of Kashmir itself. I once read that, before the partitioning, Kashmir had been one of the most beautiful areas in British India, a popular vacation spot with gorgeous scenery. However, today Kashmir is very poorly maintained, and certain areas are still in ruins due to the wars. Thus, her appearance.

But, the story really isn't about her. I was about to make this full-on Iraq/Kurdistan, but… damnit, Kurdistan is like, 14 D: And Iraq is in his 20s. I can't do shotacon. I tried. I couldn't *sobs because of my mental barriers*. But I still did hint that Iraq could have feelings for him. Feelings that might one day be returned, if Kurdistan stops being so spacy xD

Um… oh! One more thing. The Republic of Mahabad is, to date, the only independent Kurdish country to ever exist. It was a small republic in west Iran that only lasted for a few weeks. During WWII, the Soviet Union occupied some northern towns in Iran, including Iranian Kurdistan. They began to advocate for an independent Kurdish state, and, thinking that they had the support of the Soviet Union, the Iranian Kurds went ahead and set up their own country. However, back then Iran was an ally to the West, most notably the allied countries; the newly formed state threw Iran (deeper) into crisis, and, with pressure from America and Britain, the Soviet Union withdrew support from the Republic of Mahabad, and Iran was free to re-take the territory. Most of the people who had worked for the government of this state were eventually executed.

Before this, I kinda think that Kurdistan probably was just a really young kid, and that this brief stint as an independent country kind of pushed him just into the beginning of puberty. And he's remained there since ^^

Okay… hope this was good enough :3 Review, please? ^^


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